


The Luckiest Irish-Catholic Kid in Hell's Kitchen

by tracy7307



Series: Depth of Winter, Invincible Summer [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain Marvel (Marvel Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Porn, Same-Sex Marriage, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 17:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5385011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracy7307/pseuds/tracy7307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James wants to make an honest man out of Matt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Luckiest Irish-Catholic Kid in Hell's Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by and dedicated to isisanubis. This fic is entirely their fault.

The winter wind rushed through the door of Fogwell’s Gym, briefly blasting Matt and James with bitter air when the Thai delivery man opened and closed it behind him. James brought the bag to the table next to the ring and placed Matt’s carton and chopsticks in front of him. Matt didn’t wait long before tearing in; he hadn’t eaten since noon and it was already ten at night. He was famished after an intense workout. 

“Slow down hon,” James said as he opened his carton. “You’re gonna choke on that noodle.” 

Matt swallowed his mouthful of food. “Isn’t that the same thing you said to me last night?” 

James plucked a piece of chicken from Matt’s carton. “Smartass.” 

“That’s why you love me.” Matt executed his vengeance by sneaking a piece of beef from James’s meal. 

“Among many other reasons.” 

They ate in silence for some time as the snow fell gently outside, piling up against the gym’s window. That winter had been particularly brutal on Hell’s Kitchen. There seemed to be no middle ground in the city; the weather was either Satan’s Crotch, Tsunami, or Polar Vortex. 

Matt felt a bit of a chill as he cooled down from the workout. He got up to throw away their trash and pull on his hoodie. James walked over and pressed him back against the ring and held him there. The metal arm exerted the perfect amount of pressure; James seemed to know how to control the massive amounts of power in that arm and restrain it when touching Matt. After all, Matt had heard James crack the bones of enemies with the same metal fingers that traced Matt’s body softly enough to bring goosebumps in bed. 

James placed small, light kisses along Matt’s neck. 

“I’m sweaty,” Matt said as he played with the strings of James’s sweatpants.

“Don’t care,” James said. He licked Matt’s neck. 

Matt laughed. “You must _really_ not care.” 

He placed his forehead against Matt’s. “Remember the first time I told you I loved you?” 

“How could I possibly forget? It was only a year and a half ago.” Matt gave him a kiss. “Not to mention that you made a spectacle of it.” 

James pulled up a folding chair in front of Matt. “Tell me about it. I mean, pretend I wasn’t there and tell me the whole thing like I’d never heard it before.” 

“But you were.”

“I know. I just want to hear you tell it again. You do such a beautiful job. Just say it.” 

Matt sighed a happy, exasperated sigh. “Alright Lennie. Guys like us, that work on ranches, are the loneliest-”

James coughed loudly. “ _Not_ the Steinbeck version, please.” 

Matt recalled the twist of panic and elated happiness he felt that day. “We were on Fox & Friends with Steve. I was only there because you insisted that the lawyer who cleared your name should be sitting next to you. They agreed because they wanted you and Steve to appear on the show to drum up ratings - two World War II vets reciting stories of heroism and a heartwarming reunion. They were salivating to exploit the patriotism. They assumed that both of you would present yourselves as a couple of good-ole-days moral conservatives.” 

James pulled Matt closer so that he was standing between James’s knees.

“And it did kind of start out like that… but as you and Steve kept talking, your hand drifted over to mine. You held it and ran your fingers over mine. The entire time, I could hear Elizabeth Hasselbeck’s facial muscles contorting into a frown. When you lifted my hand to your lips and kissed it, she gasped.” 

James circled his arms around the back of Matt’s legs and laughed. “I loved that part. Fuck ‘em.” 

“She said, ‘Sergeant Barnes, I’m sorry, but I have to ask – why exactly are you holding Mr. Murdock’s hand?’ And I could hear your response aimed directly at her: ‘Because I love him.’ So matter of fact. They were _clearly_ uncomfortable, but you had zero fucks to give. You turned to me and said, ‘Matthew Michael Murdock, I am deeply and wholeheartedly in love with you.’ I was terrified of doing this on live television, but you had never said it before and I’d never felt so happy. I could barely talk. I said, ‘I love you too, James.’ Then we kissed. For a long time. I could physically _feel_ the anger building around me – pounding pulses, sweating, clenched fists. You added tongue just to make them squirm a bit more, and when I moaned, I heard a producer gag. 

Steve slapped his hand on your shoulder just to say _this shit’s gone on long enough_ in that Steve way where he actually never says a word. Then he said, ‘Good for you, pal. You deserve to be happy. Matt’s a great guy.’ He hugged you, Fox went to commercial and banned us all from their set, and that was that.” 

James smiled up at Matt. “Banned for being too gay. Couldn’t have been more perfect, in my opinion. Fuck all of those people.”

Matt traced James’s hair, which was pulled back into a sweaty ponytail. “I can’t lie. It was pretty damn awesome.” 

“I have a question for you.” His voice suddenly lost all of its bravado and grew more sincere. “This time no national audience, no Steve, no conservatives frothing at the mouth. Just you and me.” James took Matt’s hands in his. “Will you marry me?” 

Warmth twisted around in Matt’s stomach and flooded his body. “Yes. Of course I will.” 

James sprang up and took Matt into his arms, kissing him long and deep until Matt’s toes were curling in his sneakers. 

Matt focused on James’s heartbeat, on his smell, on the way he cupped Matt’s face. “I’d love nothing more.”

~*~

Matt sucked James down to the hilt until his was nose buried in the nest of hair at the base of James’s cock. James hummed as Matt worked the length, paying close attention to small hitches of breath, to a slight change of heartbeat, to tensing of muscles, reading the physiological signs of pleasure and responding as he sucked.

He placed his hands on each side of James’s hips for leverage. He pulled up to the head of James’s cock and touched his forehead to James’s belly while he sucked the tip. Using his hand to stroke the length, Matt ran his tongue over the head, enjoying the salty fluid there that told him he was doing a damn good job. 

“We need to tell everyone that we’re engaged,” James said, panting, as he began pumping his hips. “When should we do that? Should we have everyone over? A little party or something? Or maybe go over to Avengers Tower?” 

Matt paused, aimed his eyes toward James’s face, and raised his eyebrows. He might not have been able to see, but he hoped his point was made.

“Shit! I’m sorry,” James said as he touched Matt’s cheek. “Thinking out loud again. Please don’t stop.” 

Matt ducked his head and resumed sucking and stroking, gently playing with James’s balls as he moved his mouth up and down James’s length until he panted “Matt, fuck, baby, I love you,” and came all over Matt’s tongue. 

Matt swallowed until the last pulse. Slowly he let James’s cock slide from his lips. “Now that my mouth is free again, let’s talk about this.”

~*~

Three nights later, they sat together at Avengers Tower in front of everyone. All of the Avengers were accounted for: Tony, Steve, Thor, Bruce, Clint, Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Vision, and Sam. Matt’s small but loyal crew of Foggy and Karen were present as well. Both had heated faces and shortness of breath, so excited to be sitting among all of these heroes.

James jammed the tips of his thumb and middle finger into his mouth and whistled. The conversations quieted down. “Thanks for coming everyone and for your attention. Specifically you, Barton. I know this is hard for you, what with your goldfish attention span.”

Clint propped his feet up on Natasha’s chair in the space behind her ass. “James, if you’re breaking up with Matt, you’re a damned fool. Matt, come here, baby, and let me hold you.” 

“While I’m flattered as always, Clint,” Matt heard the scales of James’s arm click loudly as he talked, “what we gathered you together to tell you is that we’re getting married.” 

James took Matt’s hand and kissed it. Steve approached James and hugged him while Matt found himself buried in a Karen-Foggy hug sandwich. “I’m so happy for you, Matt!” Karen said with tears forming in her eyes while Foggy said, “So help me god this will be the best bachelor party. You will ache for _days_.” 

Some of the embraces that followed were exuberant (Thor bear hugged him and lifted him off the ground); some were sweet (Wanda gave him a kiss on the cheek and he felt waves of calm happiness wash over him from head to toe – he suspected her magic was at play); and one specifically was disconcerting (Clint laid his head Matt’s shoulder and let his hands come to rest on Matt’s ass). Eventually drinks were poured and everyone resumed their seats.

Matt heard Clint raise his hand and cough. “Question. Can I wear my ruffled purple dress?”

Immediately Foggy’s hand went up. “Uh, wait a sec. If he gets to wear a purple dress, can I wear my green one?” He leaned over to Karen and whispered, “It really brings out my eyes!” 

“No, Clint, Jesus.” Natasha smacked Clint’s legs down from her chair. “No dresses.” 

“But Nat, it’s classy! It’s knee-length, I swear!” 

“Foggy!” Karen hissed. “I will return all of those fancy pens you stole from the office next door.” 

Matt heard Clint look over toward Foggy. “Hey. Bro. Come sit next to me.” 

“No!” said Karen and Natasha in unison. The entire team moved between them. Thor picked Clint up under one arm and laid his hand over Clint’s mouth. “The gods will smile upon your union! Fear not, for I shall keep this one under a watchful eye. Now, pray tell us more about this glorious day.” 

Clint squirmed under Thor’s arm and bit his finger. “Teeth sharper than a Midgardian serpent!” Thor muttered as he shook his hand.

“But I look so good in it!” Clint yelled before Thor gagged Clint with the tip of his cape.

James turned to Matt and pulled him into a supportive embrace. “Jesus take the wheel.”

~*~

Spring unfurled all her glory over what felt like the course of one hour in Hell’s Kitchen, her green arms erasing all of winter’s white. When Matt walked into the office that morning, snow smelling of grime and oil hugged the curbs. By the time he left, it ran in small rivers toward dirty sewer grates.

Matt felt the sun’s warmth on his face and pulled off his heavy winter coat. 

Karen tilted her head toward the sun as Matt opened the door to his apartment building for her. “Turned out to be a beautiful day after all,” she said. 

“Thought winter would never end,” he said as they climbed the stairs. 

“Thanks for having me over for dinner. I didn’t feel like sitting at home alone tonight.” 

“Me neither. James is off helping Steve with some mission, so I’m flying solo for a few days here.” 

She hung her coat next to his and followed him to the kitchen. “How’s the wedding planning going?” 

“Not bad,” Matt said as he pulled ingredients from the refrigerator. “We know the when and where. Just working out some of the details.” 

Karen picked up a green pepper and started to wash it. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. That day she’d done a fair amount of walking making house calls while wearing heels that bothered her feet – new ones, by the stiff creaking sounds they made. Matt plucked the pepper from her hands. “I’ll take care of dinner. You sit down and relax.” He finished rinsing the pepper and began slicing it.

“I could at least help you cut these up,” she said, but the sign of relief did not escape Matt’s attention. 

“I’m happy to cook for you, Karen. You put in a hard day today.” 

She sat down at the table. “You’re amazing, Matt. You know that? James is a lucky guy.” She paused to take a sip of the beer Matt had given her. “How did cake sampling go yesterday at the Tower?” 

Matt began slicing chicken and adding it to the baking dish. “My palette got fatigued pretty quickly. Too many things to taste and smell. I told James to pick the cake. I trust his judgment.” 

After rubbing the chicken in oil and spices, he threw the dish in the oven and washed his hands. His phone began chirping _Tony Stark. Tony Stark. Tony Stark._

The blood vessels in Karen’s cheeks expanded. Even though she’d met Tony several times, he was the one who always made her heart beat just a touch faster. 

Matt answered and put it on speaker. “Hey Tony. What’s up?” 

“Got anyone there with you?”

“Yep. Karen is here. Why? Something wrong?”

“Not at all. Karen! You have the face of a Botticelli and the body of a Degas. How are you, my Venus?” 

Matt heard blood vessels breaking all over Karen’s face. “I’m fine, thanks,” she said shyly. 

“Not that I don’t want you hitting on my friend, but is there a reason for this call?” Matt asked as he set the timer on the stove. 

“Matty, you know as well as I do that I’m happily taken. Off the market. Ball and chain. It’s just that God put me on this green Earth to appreciate beauty when I see it. Actually, I’m glad she’s there. I really wish you could see what’s happening in the dining room right now. FRIDAY’s recording the whole thing. I’ll link you to the feed. Karen, please tell Matty what you’re seeing.” 

Karen tapped Matt’s phone and Matt heard two voices deep in conversation. 

“No, no bro. I swear. You need to try this hazelnut.” _Clint_ , Matt thought.

“I tried it, and while it is delightfully nutty, I swear to god, I want to marry this Caribbean cake.” 

“Oh my god!” Karen laughed. “Foggy and Clint are sitting on top of the table with about thirty little slices of cake between them!” 

“I don’t know. Neither of them strike me as particularly tropical. I think Matt is a bit Midnight Classic and James is Pistachio,” Clint said.

“Oh my god. Clint! You have to try this coffee cake. Here.” 

Karen started laughing so hard that tears rolled from her eyes. “Foggy is _feeding_ Clint!” 

“Mm! Fantastic!” Clint said. “You have exquisite taste, my friend.” 

“You flatter me. Now shall we resume our experiment?” 

“Yes. Absolutely. Got my arrows right here. Did you bring the marshmallow fluff?” 

Matt heard Foggy reach and pull something from a plastic bag. “Right here, buddy.” 

“Oh god,” Karen said. “Tony! Can you hear me? Stop them now!” 

“On it,” Tony said. The call cut off. 

“Nothing good can possibly come of that,” Matt said as he started preparing their salad. 

“Well, maybe one thing.” Karen toyed with the label of her bottle. “Maybe you should go with the coffee cake.”

~*~

“How long has it been?” Karen asked as she reached for the popcorn bowl.

“Two weeks,” Matt said, pausing to listen to the dialogue. He didn’t particularly care for television, but this series caught his attention. Karen described the visuals for him; her analysis added an extra dimension to the show. 

“Has he called?” She asked. The question was edged with quiet concern. 

“No. Not surprising, though. Sometimes these missions with Steve aren’t always conducive to pausing for phone calls.” He took a handful of popcorn and could feel the empathy rolling from Karen. She didn’t say a word – she simply placed her hand on his forearm, gave it a squeeze, and continued watching the show.

He appreciated her tiny physical gestures; they often communicated more than any clichéd phrase could. 

The show regained his attention. The argument between the two lead characters began to escalate; one of them couldn’t deal with the other’s methods and Matt had strong opinions about which one was right. As the disagreement turned to shouting, Matt’s stomach clenched as he felt their disagreement would come to blows, when suddenly the apartment door opened and slammed closed. 

James’s boots came stomping down the hall. 

A smile broke over Matt’s face. “Hey! I didn’t even hear you coming up the stairs! I was all caught up in this show. Where-”

Without a word James pulled Matt to his feet with his metal arm. The popcorn bowl flipped over and spilled everywhere as James tugged him to the bedroom, Matt stumbling alongside him. 

Matt barely had time to say, “What are you-” before James had thrown him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him, cutting him off with a fierce kiss. Matt spread his knees apart and James slid down harshly between them, his metal hand gathering Matt’s hands and holding them down above his head. 

James smelled like campfire smoke, dirt, oil, sweat, and stale blood (someone else’s, to Matt’s relief). He kissed Matt long and hard, his tongue licking against Matt’s as he started tugging on the button of Matt’s jeans.

Matt did the only thing he could think of to slow this down just for a moment; he wrapped his legs around James’s back and began rubbing the bulge in his pants against James’s stomach. 

James broke the kiss, gasping against Matt’s cheek. That was the pause Matt needed.

“Honey.” Matt said, trying to break James out of it. He lowered his hips. “James. Talk to me.” 

James began kissing and biting Matt’s neck. “I need to fuck you.” His fingers ran over the scruff on Matt’s cheek, rasping with his touch. “I missed you so damn much.”

“I can tell, and I want you to. But Karen’s in the other room. The door is open.” 

“Don’t care. I need you.” He kissed Matt again. 

“Guys!” Karen called from the living room. “I’m just gonna put my headphones in, okay? Do what you need to!” 

That was all the permission that James needed. With a long stretch he reached for the nightstand, retrieving the lube and a condom. 

Matt unzipped and kicked off his jeans as James shoved his pants and underwear down to mid-thigh. The condom packet crinkled in James’s hands. He tore it open at the same time as Karen cued up her music – Mumford and Sons, Matt could hear. 

“On your knees, baby,” James said as he slid in behind Matt. Kneeling on the bed, James applied a generous amount of lube and tossed aside the container. He pulled Matt’s back against his chest and ran his hand up Matt’s shirt, letting it rest over Matt’s heart. His cock slid against Matt’s ass. “I know this is faster than usual,” he said, planting kisses along Matt’s shoulder. “I need to know you’re okay with this.”

“Yes,” Matt replied. James’s cock slid over Matt’s hole. “God yes. Please.” 

Karen paused her music.

Matt felt the pressure of the head of James’s cock and then a slow, painful burn as he slid inside. The sound Matt made at the sensation drew Karen’s concern. He heard her approach the doorway, her face tilted toward the opening though not quite fully peeking in.

“Alright?” James asked. His muscles tensed with want of movement. Sweat began beading at his hairline.

“Go ahead. Move,” Matt said, tilting his face back and finding James’s lips. James wrapped his hands around Matt’s hips and thrust. 

The cotton blend of James’s pants felt rough against the back of Matt’s thighs. Sensations began to overwhelm him: the feel of his body adjusting to James’s cock; the smell of Karen’s perfume in the doorway; the need written in James’s fingers clenched around his hips; the sound of James’s breath as he panted against the back of Matt’s neck. In the building next door, two other couples were having sex; below them, two men argued in Spanish; across the hall, Matt’s neighbor watched her nightly news program; and as Karen’s concern eased, she started to become aroused by what she heard. 

Matt gave in to everything, letting it all flood over him as the slide of James inside of him became a pleasurable pain. James didn’t last long, though; he was far too charged for that. There were only several more thrusts before his cock pulsed as he came. 

James kissed Matt as he pulled out. “God did I miss you,” he said quietly as traced Matt’s ribs. “All I could think about was getting back home to this.” His fingers spread over Matt’s heart. “Come to the bathroom with me, hon. I need a shower and I can tell you about this mission.” He got off the bed, tied off the condom and threw it in the bin. “Just so you know, I’m gonna make you come at least three times tonight.” 

“James, Karen’s still here.” 

Matt heard James’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Oh yeah!” He walked into the living room naked as the day he was born, picked up Karen into a massive hug and spun her around. “How are you, sugar? I missed you!” 

“James!” she shouted, laughing and covering her eyes. “I’m glad you’re back.” 

“Me too,” he said as he put her down and kissed her cheek. “Sorry about that. I needed to … well … you know. I needed to fuck my boyfriend. How’d I do in there? Got any tips for me?” 

Matt pulled on sweats and grabbed a towel. _No shame. None whatsoever,_ Matt thought as he handed the towel to James. He felt like he should’ve been surprised that James didn’t actually wrap the towel around his waist, instead holding it loosely at his side, but he really wasn’t. 

“Not that I’m some sort of expert, but don’t you need to work on him more before you start, you know, going at it? Foreplay and all that?” 

Matt sighed and ducked his head. “Sweet mother of Jesus, kill me now.” 

“You’re right, Karen. Oh, and I’m sorry I interrupted your movie night, too.” James pulled her back into a hug. He leaned to whisper next to her ear, “I wonder how many times I can blow him tonight before he starts getting sore.”

Karen gathered up her purse and coat. “I’m gonna let you two work that out,” she said with a smile. “Night Matt.” 

“See you in the morning. I’ll bring bagels to smooth over the impending awkwardness.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” she said from the doorway. “Oh, by the way? I prefer my Awkward Bagels to be cinnamon raisin.”

*~*

It became apparent that compromise would have to be made.

In the months since their first meeting, Foggy and Clint spent their free time performing tasks under the codename “Project Foggeye”. Clint flew Foggy on his Sky Cycle to the top of the Statue of Liberty; when they reached the crown, Clint held Foggy around his midsection while Foggy yelled “I’m the king of the world!” They snuck into Natasha’s room and plastered it (for no apparent reason) with hundreds of photos of Bill Murray. They filled Thor’s bedroom with popcorn. They replaced Tony’s outrageously expensive Vietnamese civet coffee with Folger’s. They flew a remote-controlled skeleton-like grim reaper around Central Park, scaring the shit out of joggers and tourists. 

The latest operation under Project Foggeye was a campaign to wear dresses to the wedding and have six minutes of stage time at the reception.

Matt and James made a counterproposal – they could wear said dresses and have stage time to their heart’s content, so long as they kept all shenanigans confined to the rehearsal. 

Foggy and Clint accepted and promised on the actual day, they’d be on their best behavior.

On the morning of the rehearsal, and Matt sipped his coffee, contemplating the plethora of ways this day could go wrong. 

“It’ll be fine, babe,” James assured Matt from behind his newspaper. “Best they get it all out of their system now.” 

“I can just imagine it now, though. Foggy decides to sneak back into the hall’s kitchen with Clint and steal their stash of cloth napkins. The next thing you know I’ll be fishing them out of the drunk tank at three in the morning while they’re wearing togas made of napkins.” 

James folded his paper and pushed his plate out of the way, taking Matt’s hand. “Do you love me?” He ran his thumb over the back of Matt’s hand.

Matt heard a chunk of hair slide down from the bun at the back of James’s head. Affection swelled in his chest. “Of course.” 

“I love you too. And that, my darling, is all that matters.” He kissed each of Matt’s fingers. 

Matt listened to James’s heartbeat and knew it was true. Everything would be just fine.

*~*

Matt stood next to Father Lantom as Foggy and Clint found their way through the entrance, two pairs of feet wobbling unsteadily in heels on concrete.

“They look very lovely.” Father’s voice was filled with amusement. 

“Here, Clint, help me,” Foggy said. Matt heard Clint grab Foggy’s hand, and they clutched each other as the stumbled up the stairs.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Matt asked quietly. His cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. 

“Matthew, I’ve seen worse things in my life than two grown men having fun. I have to say, green does suit Franklin very well. Now, shall we begin?” 

Rehearsal certainly proved to be eventful. Matt stumbled over his words; James’s heart raced and sweat dripped from his hairline; Clint’s heel caught on the lace of his dress and he fell into a folding chair and went clattering backwards; Steve and Tony were called out by Bruce mid-rehearsal for an Avengers emergency; and Karen vomited in a potted plant due to what she later called “really sketchy shrimp for lunch”. 

“That’s why it’s a rehearsal. Things are meant to go wrong,” James said as a pair of well-groomed doormen allowed them entrance to the restaurant. The place smelled of pricey cuts of meat searing on a wood grill. Matt’s mouth watered, and he reminded himself to thank Tony for the gift of rehearsal dinner. 

“I know,” Matt said as he was seated. A menu in braille was placed in his hands and again he thought to thank Tony. “But-”

“No buts. So maybe things went FUBAR today. So what? That means it’ll be fine tomorrow. And even if they’re not fine, who cares? As long as the end result is that we’re married.” James opened his menu. “No shrimp for Karen, though.” 

Matt smiled as he ran his fingers over his menu. James knew just the right thing to say to bring him out of that place he went sometimes – that place of worrying rumination. Often it only took one or two sentences. It was a talent. He’s the Matt whisperer, Matt thought. 

While Matt was in the middle of ordering a filet, a brief screech of microphone feedback interrupted him. “Hello?” Clint said into a microphone. “Is this thing on?” He placed the mike in a stand. 

Piano notes filled the air as Matt heard Foggy and Clint settling next to each other on a piano bench. Karen set down her fork forcefully and her heartbeat shot through the roof. “It’s okay, Karen,” Foggy said into the mike. “We got this.” 

A trill of notes filled the air and Clint spoke next. “For Matt’s benefit, let the records show that Foggy and I have changed and are now wearing tuxedos. And that we look damn good.” 

“You look very dapper, Clint. Just like the Dos Equis guy.”

“Thanks Foggy. I don’t always play the piano, but when I do, it’s because my friends are getting married.”

James laughed and leaned over to Matt. “Yep. It’s true. Can’t believe my fuckin’ eyes.” 

A set of higher notes accompanied the lower range that Clint was playing. Foggy said, “On this special night, in honor of my best friend’s wedding tomorrow, Clint and I will be performing a piece that we’ve been practicing for two months. While the rest of you fuckers thought we were scheming some master prank, we secretly became goddamn piano ninjas.” A set of playful notes sounded. “This is my gift for you, Matt.” He turned to Clint. “Hit it.” 

The music started high then settled into descending scales, crashed and held for a moment. Matt waited bemusedly as Clint drew the note out. Silverware stopped clinking and side chatter died down. Although traditionally played on a guitar, Matt recognized immediately the six opening notes of In My Life by The Beatles. Clint was the first to sing. There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed. Some forever not for better, some have gone and some remain. 

Under the gentle piano notes, Matt could hear the emotion tight in James’s throat. “Dance with me,” he said, taking Matt’s hand in his own. Foggy sang next as Matt and James stood in front of the piano, dancing slowly to the music. Foggy and Clint switched verses and harmonized the chorus together. 

Matt held James close. 

And these memories lose their meaning as I think of love as something new, Clint sang. A tear slid down James’s cheek. Matt swiped it with his thumb. 

With the final verse, James stopped dancing altogether and pulled Matt against his chest, burying his damp face against Matt’s shoulder. Though I know I’ll never lose affection for people and things that went before. I know I’ll often stop and think about them; in my life, I love you more. 

The significance of the lyrics was not lost on anyone in the room. Sniffles went around and a couple of claps gained momentum as everyone began applauding the ballad. Matt felt two pairs of arms encircling them as Foggy and Clint joined their hug, one on each side of them. 

“Thank you. Thank you both,” Matt said. His heart felt close to bursting. 

“I haven’t seen you this emotional since the last time you recited Marshall,” Foggy said. 

“Thanks for letting us have the stage,” Clint said. “We’re done now. Best behavior from here on out. Scout’s honor.”

“Please do that again tomorrow at the reception,” James said.

“Franklin and I would be delighted,” Clint said. “Now, please excuse us. We have a date with a bottle of Jack and a porterhouse.” 

Later that night as their chauffer from Stark Industries drove them to their hotel room, Matt laid his head on James’s shoulder. “Maybe rehearsal day wasn’t so bad after all.”

*~*

Meditation, for Matt, often felt like the first seconds of being submerged in a pool after jumping in. His surroundings would become muted; the cacophony of voices and the raucous sounds of New York transformed to something gentle, quiet, impressionistic, and very far away. With his senses on edge every second of his life, Matt desperately needed meditation in his life.

He needed it when he woke up on his wedding day to focus his breathing, calm his anxiety, and tune out the noise around him.

He needed it when he prayed with Father Lantom. They knelt side by side in the church an hour before the ceremony, just the two of them with heads bowed, surrounded by silence broken only by Father’s quiet words. 

He needed it when he emerged into the sunlight on the church’s rooftop and thirty heads turned and watched as he took James’s arm and walked toward Father, who waited for them behind a podium. (Three months ago Father had told him that although the church wouldn’t allow a same-sex wedding inside, “we can do this ceremony one step better, Matty. I’ll marry you two on the church’s roof. That way nothing stands between you, James, and God.”) 

He needed it as he recited his speech to James, focusing on his breathing, his heartbeat, and tuning out the sounds around him. “I give speeches all the time. I’m good at presenting facts and thinking by the letter of the law. This, though – this is something entirely different. Speaking from the heart-” his throat tightened. He paused to let it relax and refocused his emotion into the delivery of his words. “Speaking from the heart is something entirely new for me.” James squeezed his hands. “The day I met you, it wasn’t long before I knew I could trust you. It was in the way you breathed, the emotion in your throat, and the beat of your heart. Those things spoke to me before you said a word. I’m just damn lucky – sorry, Father.” Father Lantom nodded. “I’m just lucky that you chose to stick around. I didn’t think love was in the cards for me. Didn’t think there was any way possible I’d win in the end. Then you came into Josie’s, ordered a Guinness, and turned my life upside-down. James Buchanan Barnes, with all my heart, I love you and promise to stand by your side and fight for you until I draw my last breath.”

Matt could taste the salt of James’s tears. Heartbeats, sniffles, and heavy swallows from the audience started to overwhelm Matt’s ears; again, he concentrated his focus on the man in front of him. 

James breathed deeply several times and cleared his throat. “When I met you, I felt like I was living in a black cloud. I was confused, angry, and hurt. I didn’t know who I was. It felt like the walls were closing in on both sides. And then you showed up.” Matt heard the muscles of James’s mouth twitch up in a smile. “You showed me compassion and trust. You reminded me that I am a good person. Every day since then you’ve built me up - made me feel valued and important. You showed me love. I love you, Matt. I come from an era when I would never have been able to say that to a man in front of others. Being here with you, in this time, in this place, is a blessing. I’ll say it again, just because I damn well can. Sorry, Father.” Again, Father Lantom nodded. “I love you.” 

With the vows, given, Foggy placed a ring on Father’s bible. After it was blessed, Matt picked it up and slid it on James’s right ring finger; James had told Matt that he wanted the ring on his flesh rather than his metal hand. “With this ring, I thee wed,” Matt repeated Father’s words. Steve placed the other ring on the bible and James repeated the process. The rings matched – simple platinum bands with letters raised in braille: MM on one side, JB on the other. 

Father Lantom spoke. “By the power vested in me by God and man, I declare you to be wed. Congratulations.” 

Matt relaxed his focus and allowed the waves of applause and cheers to crowd his ears. James placed his hand on Matt’s cheek and leaned forward to give Matt a long, deep kiss. 

Eventually they stopped when Father cleared his throat and gave them a short blessing. 

Matt was whisked into a procession of smells, sounds, chatter, hugs, and handshakes, until he found himself alone in the back of a limo with James. The second that the door closed, James pulled Matt forward by the lapels and kissed him. Throughout the relationship there had been plenty of different types of kisses – rough, needy, slow and passionate. This was one was filled with urgency: all lips and tongue and hot burning. When James straddled Matt’s lap, the driver slid up the partition window. It clicked into place as James unzipped Matt’s pants, tugged up on his shirt, and pulled him out of his underwear. He stroked and stroked until Matt wrapped his hands around James’s calves and came all over James’s fingers. 

James reached for a towel on the limo’s bar, but not before licking lasciviously at his fingers. “Had to take care of my husband,” he said as he started wiping gently across Matt’s lower abdomen. Matt tried to reach for James’s zipper, but James stopped him with his metal hand. “Just you right now. You have a whole week to take care of me. I always wondered what getting a blowjob in a hammock would be like.”

“I think that’ll end with us both face down in the sand,” Matt said as he zipped his pants. 

James smiled and slid off of Matt’s lap. “I just want to take care of you for now after all you’ve done for me.” He wrapped his arm around Matt’s shoulders, and Matt settled against James’s chest. “Two years, pal. For two years you’ve dealt with my panic attacks. Helped to redirect me when I woke up in the middle of the night and had no idea where I was. Held me when a memory roared up and punched me in the face and left me shattered and sobbing.” 

Matt stroked James’s thigh. “Of course I did that. I’ll always do that. I love you.” 

“You saved me,” James said quietly, tilting Matt’s face up and kissing him. “You saved me,” he said again as he pulled Matt into a hug. 

Over the years, Matt had looked evil in the face. He’d faced Wilson Fisk. He’d defeated Bullseye. He’d taken down numerous thugs and criminals in the dark alleys of Hell’s Kitchen. 

Never had he felt more like a superhero than in that moment in James’s arms. 

That evening at the reception, Foggy and Clint serenaded them again, following the ballad with a raucous version of Twist and Shout with Clint on the guitar and Foggy on the drums. Tony and Steve snuck off to the coat room ( _“Matt will hear us,” Steve whispered. “Don’t care if he does,” Tony said before he got his hand down Steve’s pants. That’s when Matt tuned them out and gave them privacy_ ). Bruce and Thor took turns trying to win over Carol Danvers, but neither of them were getting anywhere; Carol wanted to go home alone that night. Natasha and Wanda got drunk and sang songs to each other in Russian. Karen and Pietro slow danced to a fast song while Pietro played with her hair and whispered against her ear; Matt could hear blood vessels breaking in her face from across the room. She must have been flushing a brilliant shade of red. Surprising choice, Matt thought, but he was certainly happy for her.

After a flight in a Stark Industries jet to an island Tony promised would be “beautiful, warm, and intensely secluded”, Matt and James fell onto their bed, exhausted. Matt’s eyelids closed, heavy with sleep, and as the warm tropical air rolled across them and the waves crashed in the distance, he thought about just how lucky a blind Irish-Catholic kid from Hell’s Kitchen could be.


End file.
